Lovebird Watching
by Frankie'N
Summary: With entities as dangerous as ghosts constantly occupying the skies, the residents of Amity Park don't exactly have time for something as mundane as birdwatching. Lovebird watching, however, is a whole other story. DxS
1. The A-Listers

**Lovebird Watching**

by Frankie'N

Summary:With dangerous entities like ghosts constantly occupying the skies, the residents of Amity Park don't exactly have time for something as mundane as birdwatching. _Lovebird_ watching, however, is a whole other story.

The Danny-Sam phenomenon told from the perspective of everyone around them. (And later told from their own perspectives)

A/N- First new story in a decade! Hopefully my writing skills have improved. Summary says it all: I'll be telling their story in fragments, from different points of view until I eventually get to the couple themselves. Well, to be more accurate, the stories are told in third person, but revolve around the experiences of the specified character. The story will go back and forth (not chronological) to keep things... fresh.

Disclaimer: Don't own Danny Phantom or the rights to it. No need to rub it in my face, geez.

* * *

THE JOCK: Dash Baxter

Everything changed at the start of their senior year.

Dash began thinking that maybe Fentina wasn't such a loser after all, for choosing to spend all his time with the Manson chick.

It wasn't the _only_ glass-shattering revelation he had that year, but it was certainly the _first_ , given who he was: someone who had spent the better half of his seventeen years panting after hot girls.

It was precisely on the first day of school that he noticed it. Dash had been stalking the hallways, fuming over his third F of the _week_ when he spotted Fentoad and his two geek friends chatting and laughing against their lockers, lost to the world as they often were. The sight of it irked him for reasons he couldn't quite place, but as the combination of confusion and frustration was nothing new to him, he chose to act instead of reflect. The decision to do _that_ was nothing new to him, either.

He stomped over to the trio, announced something about how he was gonna make the most of the last year he'd get to torture the loser, and promptly proceeded to cram him into his locker.

That little stunt earned him a few high fives from his teammates, plus the usual scathing glare from the Manson girl.

"God, can't you pick on someone your own s-species for a change?" she bit out as she began to fiddle with the combination of the locker he had just stuffed Fenton into. It was something she had said many times in the past, but this was the first time Dash took note of the way she stuttered over the word "species," stumbling over the "s" as if she'd really meant to say something else. Dash wasn't exactly the _sharpest_ tool in the shed, but even he had to notice something strange after she'd made the same near-slip for the hundredth time. _This_ time, he realized that there used to be an older version of the jab. For the first couple of years of high school, Manson used to ask him if he couldn't pick on someone his own _size_ , instead. _Only that wouldn't make sense now_ , Dash thought to himself with growing alarm. _Fenton's practically the same size as I am._ In fact (and Dash really hoped it was just his imagination) but was Fenton actually a little… taller than him?

This led him to another thought. If that were the case, how on earth could he still fit into those lockers?

Frustrated with his own (rare) musings and irritated as he always was with things he couldn't explain, Dash opted to lash out at the nearest unpopular kid rather than sort out his thoughts. "Whatever, Manson." he growled, reaching over to smack the books held securely in her arms, sending them tumbling to the ground.

Big mistake.

Manson swore loudly and bent down to retrieve her belongings, leaving Foley to figure out the locker combination.

That was when Dash looked at her— _really_ looked at her— for the first time since he'd dismissed her as a goth freak back in the beginning of high school. She was unwittingly granting him access to a glimpse down her shirt, which he now noticed contained breasts that were fuller and more rounded than they had been a few years ago. His eyes trailed down the rest of her figure: the exposed navel, the swell of her hips… the thighs that were peeking out of her short skirt, hiked even higher as she moved to collect her things. She was wearing nearly all black, as she always had in the past, but the effect was different now— there was something unforgivingly sultry about the tight, form-fitting skirt and the fishnet sleeves adorning her arms. It was almost cruel, and Dash nearly choked on his own disbelief.

After finally gathering all her books, she drew herself to her full height and fixed him with a glare once again. He couldn't help but study her face, which had only grown lovelier over the years as she'd matured.

"What are you looking at, Baxter?" she sneered at him, snapping him out of his daze just as Fenton stumbled out of the locker that Foley somehow managed to unhinge. Dash didn't miss the way Fenton's eyes shifted to him, flashing briefly with an unusual, dangerous gleam. He would've found it strange if he hadn't been so distracted.

"You." Dash blurted out without thinking, then quickly added "Freak." in an attempt to save face.

Manson rolled her eyes at him. "Then why don't you take a fucking picture and tape it to the inside of your locker?" she snapped, not missing a beat. "You clearly haven't gotten over your juvenile urge to keep people in there. Grow up."

Dash could only stare at her blankly as, to his absolute horror, instead of feeling the usual pinpricks of irritation at her words, he could feel the beginnings of _desire_ stirring in his stomach. Her snarky attitude was actually something of a _turn on_ now that he realized she looked the way she did, and he… he kind of _wanted_ her. God, _Manson_ , of all people! The very same goth geek he'd made fun of for years; whose friends he continued to torment, whose mere presence made him want to wretch— or so he used to claim.

He could scarcely believe it. Disgusted by this new finding, Dash stormed off without saying another word.

* * *

A week passed since the strange incident by the lockers— enough time for Dash to turn his newfound attraction over about a thousand times in his head. After the initial shock had worn off, he decided he could have some fun— flirt a little bit with the goth girl, maybe cop a feel or two out of it, _and_ get a rise out of Fentonia. Two fish; one stone, or whatever that dumb saying was.

It was with this thought in mind that he found himself cornering her by her lockers again after class.

She had her back to him, but she looked over shoulder just as he approached, almost as if she could sense him coming. "What is it, Dash? Come to stuff my friends into their lockers again?" She twisted around to face him, but everything about her stance— from the hand lazily planted on her hip, to the bored expression on her face— told him she was as unperturbed as ever.

His only reaction was to smirk down at her, thinking he'd have her singing a different tune in a matter of minutes. "Nope! I came here to talk to you. Mind if I have a word?"

Sam's eyebrow raised and she opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to say that yes, she did mind, thank you very much— until curiosity seemed to get the better of her and she nodded in acquiescence. "Just give me a second."

Dash watched as she turned to her two loser friends, who looked as horrified as though they just caught Lancer without his shirt (not a pretty picture). "I'll catch up with you, guys." She assured them.

Fenton shook his head, looking more serious and protective than Dash had ever seen him. "No way. We're gonna wait right here."

Manson rolled her eyes at him. "Danny, I can take care of myself."

"I know, I know. But, Sam-"

" _Danny_."

Even from where Dash was standing, he could hear Fenton's loud sigh. "Alright. But you be careful. We'll wait for you outside."

* * *

"So guess what? Today's your lucky day, Manson." Dash had stretched one arm out to cage the dark-haired girl between himself and the lockers once Fen-turd and Foley were well out of sights.

"Oh, rapture." she replied in her usual sarcastic drawl. "My lucky day, huh? Have you come to bid a tearful farewell after getting tested positive for a bunch of STDs?"

"Nope!" he exclaimed again, knowing that his gung-ho attitude only irked her more. Her ire was secretly kind of arousing, and he would continue to provoke her so that he could bear witness to it. He grinned down at her as she glared up at him, and for a few seconds, there was silence. Finally, she caved, releasing a puff of air that blew a strand of hair away from her face. "Alright. I'll humor you, Baxter. _Why_ is it my lucky day?" she asked sweetly, voice dripping with sugar and sarcasm.

"It's your lucky day today, Manson, because _today_ I'm finally asking you out."

She blinked at him. Twice. "Say what now." She asked, her tone flat.

"You heard right." He declared, flexing his muscles a bit as he regarded her, thinking it wouldn't hurt his case any. On the contrary, he was sure it would only aid him in his mission. "So are you doing anything tonight?"

Dash missed the way she narrowed her eyes at him. "As a matter of fact-"

"Well, you are now." He cut in smoothly. "Pick you up at seven?"

"Whoa, hold it right there, hotshot. First of all, you don't even know where I live, and I wouldn't be stupid enough to tell you. Second of all, I already have plans. And lastly, even if I didn't, what makes you so sure I'd jump at the chance to jump _you_?"

But Dash's grin only broadened. He'd expected her to put on a show like that. If there was one thing he learned about Manson over the years, it was that she put up a good fight. And for the first time, he was willing to admit that it was actually pretty hot. "Come on, babe, this hard-to-get act's getting old. You know we both want it."

"H-hard to-!" She choked on the phrase and fixed him with wide eyes. "What the hell have you been huffing, Baxter? Is this some kind of sick joke?" Not giving him a chance to reply, she added: "I have a boyfriend, you know."

He snorted at that. "No you don't. You have Fenton."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah. My _boyfriend._ I know it's kinda recent, but surely word has reached you about it? Money's been flying all over the place from all the bets." It seemed that in spite of her anger, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the thought of those bets, and Dash nearly laughed.

"Yeah, I heard." He acknowledged the news with a half-hearted shrug. "Does it matter? _I'm_ interested in you now. So how 'bout it?"

He may have wanted to see a bit of her ire at first, but she was practically radiating the stuff now. "God, _no!_ How many times do I have to tell you-"

But Manson never got to finish what was surely going to be a lengthy, vicious rant, because at that exact moment, a cold chill swept over them, making them both shiver. The icy breeze was the only warning they received before an infamous pair of glowing green eyes and snow-white hair materialized out of thin air. Phantom stood directly between them, and Dash unconsciously took a step backward— partly out of surprise, but mostly from apprehension. The ghost was grinning, but there was something decidedly _unfriendly_ about it. The aura he exuded seemed different from his usual one, making Dash realize just how light and easygoing Phantom normally appeared, especially compared to other ghosts.

The highly-debated town hero angled his body toward Manson, but not before allowing his eyes to flicker to Dash for one unsettling second. "Is this guy bothering you, _miss_?" he inquired in an oddly loud voice.

Her eyes flickered to Dash before she turned to address the ghost, much in the same way he had done a second earlier, and if Dash had been more observant he might have noticed the strangeness of it. "Yes. But he's leaving now." she answered.

 _That_ snapped Dash out of his stupor. "No, he isn't." He cut in.

Phantom rose from the ground effortlessly, frowning down a little at Dash as he hovered a few feet in the air. The ghost studied him for a brief moment before the corner of his mouth tugged into a more familiar, good-natured smirk. "I suggest you leave the lady alone, dude. She doesn't seem interested."

Dash scowled at his unsolicited advice. What the hell was Phantom doing here anyway, and where did he even come from? Last Dash checked, Phantom's heroic acts were limited to encounters of the ghostly variety. He had no business spouting out no-means-no after school special shit to guys who just wanted a little action. He was about to tell the ghost exactly that to his face, but the glare Phantom suddenly fixed him with was so intense; it gleamed with something menacing and… strangely familiar. Either way, it scared the living shit out of him.

"Alright, Jesus. I'll back off." He conceded. He glanced back at Manson, who looked as though she was trying very hard not to laugh at the whole exchange.

"Good." Phantom nodded at him superiorly, then turned to acknowledge her. "Now run along, miss. It's a Friday. I'm sure you've got a nice date planned out with your loving, handsome boyfriend!"

At this, Manson actually snorted just as Phantom saluted before fading out of visibility. "Right. Well, I'm off. Wouldn't want to keep that loving, handsome boyfriend waiting." She nodded at Dash in an unaffected _see ya_ sort of way, then _ditched_ him.

Just like that.

* * *

Dash was royally _pissed off,_ to say the least.

Rejected. By that freaky goth geek. For _Fenton._

He thought he'd _never_ live it down, was positive that he wouldn't survive the humiliation. For the remainder of the week, he was in the absolute worst of moods, whaling on other kids more often than he usually did— especially on Fenton. But this only seemed to drive Manson further into the other boy's arms, so concerned was she over his well-being, guilt written clearly across her pretty features. It made Dash feel even sicker to his stomach.

And then— just as he was beginning to accept that he'd gone permanently insane from trying to wrap his head around why the _hell_ any girl would pick Fenton over him, _it_ happened.

The biggest revelation of the year.

And not just for Dash, either, oh no— it was the biggest revelation the entire town would have in years, decades, maybe even centuries.

If he thought being kinda into Manson was hard to swallow, _this_ was like trying to scarf down one of her mud pies. Made from real mud. _Without chewing._

It had happened a few weeks after Dash's failed attempt at getting Manson to go out with him. What had first seemed— to the general population, at least— to be a typical ghost fight turned out to be… uh, not-so-typical, after all. Because _typically_ , a ghost would appear and wreak havoc on the school, Phantom would come out of seemingly nowhere, kick some butt, and save the day. But this ghost seemed to outmatch Phantom, or was at least of equal strength. Dash was actually not quite _sure_ if the other ghost was just that— a ghost— or perhaps a vampire, as well. If he wasn't, he certainly looked like one. His hair was dark and tapered at the ends, creating the image of devil horns sitting atop his head. He wore an old-fashioned, white cloak, and his fangs glistened ominously as he taunted the ghost boy. Most unnerving of all were his eyes. They were an eerie, glowing red, and unlike Phantom's, they were pupil-less. Dash had seem him cause trouble several times before, but he could never remember his name… well, it didn't matter. What _did_ matter was that something Dash couldn't quite follow happened in the middle of their fight. The vampire-like-ghost took out a strange weapon— something that looked like it could have easily been invented by the Fentons— and used it to fire at Phantom. The result was a sickening, ear-splitting electric shock that left the town hero collapsing to the ground in a crumpled, motionless heap.

But it was the next few seconds that changed the town forever. It was the next few seconds that changed the course of _history_ forever.

Because in those next few seconds, a pair of blindingly bright rings swept across polar ends of the ghost boy's body.

Fenton was Phantom.

And just like that, everything seemed to make sense. Except, at the same time, nothing seemed to make sense at all.

Fenton's record-breaking number of tardies now made sense, for instance. And it made sense that he'd abruptly head for the hills every time a ghost showed its glowing face. It made sense that he always seemed more terrified and freaked out then _weirded out_ or even _embarrassed_ by his parents. It explained why he was always falling asleep in class, or why he'd repeatedly drop chem lab beakers, test tubes— not to mention his own _pants—_ back in his freshman year. It explained why Fenton could still fit into lockers (Dash later discovered that he'd turn parts of himself intangible while he was inside).

But what didn't make sense was _why_ he had wanted to go to such lengths to hide what had certainly been the coolest thing to ever happen to anyone in Amity Park; why he'd been actively trying to hide his lean muscle, his confident gait, his fighter's grace, his athletic prowess. Why and _how_ he could tolerate how majority of the student body had treated him. He was the jocks' favorite punching bag, both physically and verbally. Even the kids beneath the A-Lister crowd liked to laugh at his expense, his supposed clumsiness. No ordinary guy would have wanted to trade places with Fenton. No ordinary girl would have wanted _him_. The girls wouldn't have so much as looked his way, not unless it was to snigger at him.

Well, at least now Dash could wrap his head around why Manson would turn down someone like him for her beloved _Danny._

Fenton was stronger. More powerful. Hell, he wasn't just more powerful, he had actual _powers._ He had saved the town multiple times, and he was definitely more famous than Dash. Cooler. _This_ Dash could accept as a reason for her rejection. _I fold_ , he thought. It made sense that Manson would pick Fenton over him. Besides— and he shuddered as he recalled the inhuman glares he'd received from the half-ghost for just looking at the girl for too long—if he _didn't_ fold, Fenton could undoubtedly kill him with his bare hands. He'd do it too, if that dangerous, jealous glint in his eye was anything to go by. One time the glint had literally been his eyes flashing an otherworldly green, but Dash opted not to relive that particular instance if he could help it.

Needless to say, Dash Baxter's pursuit of Samantha Manson came to an abrupt halt, and he never dreamed that he'd actually get a chance to lay his hands on her again.

But that school year had been full of surprises, and it wasn't too long before Dash encountered another bend in the road.

* * *

Several months after the Big Reveal, Danny Fenton lost his powers in an almost ironic display of events.

The same ghost that had unmasked Danny Phantom before an unsuspecting teenaged audience had showed up at the school again. And it was strange. Everything happened in very much the same manner— a surprise visit/attack on the school, a long, drawn-out battle between the two ghosts, and a weapon not unlike those that the Fenton family were infamous for. This time, however, the Wisconsin ghost (as Dash eventually learned he was often called) brandished a sphere-like object. When he activated it, several shiny, electronic tentacles with what appeared to be electrically-charged bulbs at the ends shot forth and latched themselves onto Fenton. Just like before, the attack forced a transformation out of the half-ghost boy and left him unconscious on the floor.

Only this time, even after he awoke, he couldn't change back. His powers were gone.

It was that very same week that he decided to approach Sam Manson again. After all, she was practically the only hot girl in the entire school that had ever turned him down, and that fact alone was enough to fuel his bullheaded (albeit shallow) interest in her. What's more, word got out about Manson's family shortly after Fenton's Reveal. Her folks were _loaded._ Hell, she was a freaking _heiress._ That, plus her looks, would certainly earn her a spot at the A-List table. And with Fenton's powers out of the way, Dash was feeling pretty damn good about trying his luck with her again.

He waited till classes were over, just like the last time, before strutting over to her locker, where she was fixing her things. Luckily enough, neither Fenton nor Foley were flanking her as usual— but Dash simply assumed it was only natural that Manson would choose not to associate with them now that the former boy no longer had his powers.

The hallways were mostly empty, and it was with newly regained confidence and a well-placed smirk that Dash leaned against the locker next to hers. "Well, Manson? When're you gonna break the news to Fen-turd?"

She didn't even look up from her task of assorting her books to address him. "What news? I think he was the first one to notice he couldn't use his powers anymore, Dash." It was only after arranging her things that she withdrew from her locker to face him, eyebrow quirked, lips firmly pressed together in an impatient line.

Dash plowed through, unfazed. "Not _that_ news, babe. The news that you're gonna drop him for bigger fish." He draped an arm over her shoulders as she looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, too confused to react to the physical contact.

And then suddenly, she threw her head back, throwing his arm off, and laughed at him. _Laughed at him._ "Oh… oh, Dash." she managed to breathe out in a tone that seemed to be a combination of amusement and… was that actual _pity_ in her voice? He had never heard _anyone_ address him with pity before! "I'm not with Danny because he's Phantom."

"Wha-"

"Fenton or Phantom or both, as long as he stays _Danny_ , then I'm staying with _him_ , alright?" she fixed him a look and shook her head in a way that said she had no idea why she even bothered to clarify that to him, but was too amused to care either way. And then she casually slammed her locker door shut and just _left_ him there in the middle of the hallway. _Again._

* * *

True to her word, Manson stayed with Fenton even during the few months that it seemed he would never get his powers back, and she continued to stay with him after he was both Fenton and Phantom again.

He began to see what everyone else saw when they looked at the pair. And although he endured a wide variety of encounters that involved the two throughout high school (including the embarrassing but very real fear that Fenton would completely obliterate him with one of his glowing-green ectoblasts every time he caught him eyeing his girlfriend), that brief conversation he had with Sam Manson stood out among his many odd memories of the couple for years to come.

* * *

THE PRINCESS: Paulina Sanchez

It wasn't until decades later, during their high school graduating class' 20th year reunion, that Paulina began to understand the phenomenon that was Danny and Sam.

The day started off better than most. She had been so excited for the reunion; thrilled at the prospect of reclaiming her crown. In the twenty years that had passed after graduation, life hadn't been so great. College wasn't much of an option for her, so she decided to pursue fame. She did manage to land a few modeling gigs here and there, what with her looks and her family's influence, but she never quite achieved the same level of popularity in the real world as she had so relished in her high school days.

She stepped into the familiar halls of Casper High feeling confident and ready to be showered with the same old adoration from her former classmates. True, several years had passed since then, but Paulina knew she still looked damn good. She had opted for a fashionably late entrance, expecting crowds to part and heads to swivel around to admire her as she sashayed down the halls— and perhaps she would have gotten that reaction too, if their attention had not already been directed elsewhere.

A mass of former students, now adults, were crowded around one of the larger janitor's closets. The air around them practically buzzed with laughter and excitement.

Paulina elbowed her way through the growing crowd, shoving a few people out of her path until she made it to the doorway. "What is everybody gawking at-?"

But her cry was cut short as her eyes landed on the raven-haired pair standing inside the miniature room, just behind the open doorway.

Danny Fenton and Sam Manson— or Sam Fenton, rather— were whispering frantically to each other as they attempted to straighten out their clothes, which were in rather obvious disarray. They were having a private argument, and Paulina doubted anyone but she could hear them, as she was standing closest to the door.

"I told you this was a bad idea!"

"Well, we were early for once! Don't tell me you never thought about trying that in here."

"God Danny, if you could just keep it in your pants for—"

Paulina took that as her cue to clear her throat loudly. It seemed to do the trick. The couple whipped their heads around, eyes wide as if noticing their audience for the first time. With the way they tended to get completely absorbed in each other, it would be no surprise.

Sam at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as she moved to grab her purse. "Excuse us. We're sorry—"

"I'm not." Danny quipped, grinning from ear to ear and looking truly remorseless as he wrapped his jacket around his wife.

"Danny!" Sam smacked him lightly on the shoulder, but was unable to stop the corners of her mouth from twitching upwards in amusement. "Excuse us." she said again, tugging her husband by the arm. "Sorry for the uh, the disturbance."

The Fentons stumbled out of the closet, scampering down the hallway hand-in-hand and laughing mischievously like a couple of lovestruck teenagers.

Paulina said nothing as the two fled the scene. She remained silent as her former classmates hooted and cheered loudly at them. She stood there, frozen, with an all-too-familiar jealousy for the other woman resurfacing at a rapid pace.

Toward the latter part of high school she had amped up her efforts to sabotage Samantha Manson, not only because she had wanted Danny Fenton for herself after she discovered the ghost boy's true identity, but also because she had secretly acknowledged that the goth girl had grown into a beauty that rivaled even herself— a crime Paulina was not willing to leave unpunished. Manson was also undeniably intelligent, talented and fearless— and she never once submitted to any of the queen bee's threats. If she had all that going for her _plus_ looks, where did that leave Paulina? What did _she_ have that set her aside from everyone else? All her life she'd been showered with praise about her appearance; she was accustomed to getting her way because of her looks. She knew beauty was her weapon and she knew how to wield it well. The problem (although she'd sooner drop dead than admit it to anyone) was that oftentimes it felt like the _only_ weapon in her arsenal, so to speak.

But she had never been more jealous of Sam as she was at that moment, not even when she had first discovered that the goth's dorky boyfriend was actually her beloved ghost boy.

Because she knew, hell, their entire _graduating class_ knew that only Danny and Sam could be _this_ crazy about each other even after twenty-two years of being together (as an official couple— everyone knew they'd been together far longer than that). Although she had yet to fully accept it, she knew deep down, far from the edges of her conscious awareness, that in spite of all the admirers she had rejected, all the dates she'd been on and all the boyfriends she'd dumped, she had never had, and perhaps never _would_ have a love like theirs.

To add insult to injury, her once-adoring populace had chosen to swarm around Danny and Sam during the party itself. They crowded around the couple and asked them question after question— questions about their adventures, questions about ghosts, even questions about their love life and the little incident in the janitor's closet earlier. Paulina couldn't get a word in edgewise.

The disappointment and frustration ate at her sanity until she felt like she couldn't breathe. The cheerfully-decorated gymnasium with its red and white streamers and Casper High banners suddenly felt too hot, too stuffy, too crowded, too… _everything._ She had to get out of there.

* * *

Paulina had been standing right outside the gym doors for all of fifteen minutes when Sam Manson came out of them, surrounded by an entourage of five or so women— the very same women who had once worshipped the ground Paulina walked on, she noted. Her eyes flickered back to Sam, who had the nerve to appear bored and even _bothered_ by their presence. Her lips curled at the sight of it, and as the group headed for the ladies' room, a plan began to form in Paulina's mind. She had to fight back the urge to grin with unrestrained glee. Her plan would be just _perfect_.

She took a minute to compose herself before bursting through the gym doors and making a beeline for Danny Fenton, who was thankfully pouring himself a drink, enjoying a break from his fans, _alone._ She tugged at his arm urgently and lowered her voice. "Danny! Thank 've got to come with me! I think I saw a ghost in the hallway, but I'm not too sure. I didn't want to make a big fuss over it and scare everyone, but you've got to come quickly!"

Instead of looking alarmed, he merely groaned in exasperation. "Of course there's a ghost. It wouldn't be a Casper High reunion without one. Alright, Paulina, show me where you think you saw it."

She nodded and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the triumphant expression on her face. She led him toward the gym doors, passing by Star on the way and whispering for her to let Sam know when she got back from the restroom that Danny was headed off to the Janitor's Closet to inspect the premises for a ghost.

* * *

Perhaps one of Danny's best qualities, in Paulina's opinion, was his extraordinary cluelessness. It had certainly served its purpose several times in the past, whenever Paulina had a scheme or an underhanded motive back in high school that somehow involved him. _This_ particular situation was no different, she figured, as she pulled Danny down the school corridors by the arm, enjoying the feel of his still-defined bicep all the while. She could feel excitement bubbling in her stomach as the same janitor's closet from a few hours earlier came into view, and once again she praised herself for coming up with such a perfect plan. "Here!" she declared as she skidded to a halt in front of the door.

Danny turned his head this way and that, looking puzzled. "Are you sure, Paulina? My ghost sense isn't really picking up on anything, maybe it—"

"Definitely here! You better take a good look inside!" and with that, she yanked the door open and pushed him into the cramped room. She trotted in after him, shutting the door closed behind them and locking it for good measure.

She stood patiently as Danny inspected the room, still oblivious to her plans. "Over there?" she suggested, pointing to a spot high above, near the ceiling.

Danny, predictably, tilted his head upwards to look. "I don't think I see anythi-"

Quick as a flash, Paulina grabbed his face with both hands while he was caught off guard, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

The kiss lasted for half a second before she felt a cold chill touching her lips and fingertips. With her eyes closed, she briefly wondered if _this_ was the electric, thrill-inducing spark that everyone says you're supposed to feel when you kiss the person you're meant to be with. But that theory was short-lived as she quickly felt the chill slip past her. She opened her eyes to find that it was in fact _him_ that had slipped past her fingertips, phasing himself away from her touch with well-practiced ease.

Whatever shock she felt from his narrow _escape_ was easily surpassed by the abject horror that was written all over his face. He seemed to be at a loss for words, but his startled, wide-eyed stare seemed to be screaming _What on earth do you think you're doing?_

Frustrated by his response (or lack thereof) to her advances, and angered even further by his inability to say anything, she snapped. "What makes her so special anyway?" Paulina practically screeched at him, plunging headfirst into the very insecurity that was the root of all her scheming. She felt her hackles rise at the unexpected turn of events, all pretenses of seductive mystery and poise forgotten. "What the hell is she to you?"

Even as the words tumbled out of her lips, she knew they were a mistake. But she refused to take them back; so irritated was she at his rejection.

Danny's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and it would have been comical if he didn't look absolutely livid. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so… well, _appalled_ was a very kind, mild word for it.

" _What is she to me?_ " He echoed, voice rising in his blatant disbelief. "She's my childhood friend… my best friend, my partner in ghost fighting, in work, in… in _everything_! My lover, my wife, _the mother of my children_?"

Paulina very nearly gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. _Alright, already. Don't get your boxer briefs in a twist._ Not one to be deterred, however, she simply nodded. "Yeah, so she's everywhere. Aren't you a little tired of her?" She stepped forward, trapping him between the shelves and her body. "Don't you think you deserve a break? After all these years… after all that hard work, don't you think you deserve a little reward?" she dropped her voice to a breathy whisper and pressed the length of her against him, something she knew drove every man absolutely crazy. She looked up at him through her lashes (another thing she knew men loved), and was once again shocked at the look on his face.

No, perhaps not so much _shocked_ as… discomfited. The look he was giving her wasn't one of lust, or panic, or even disgust. He was looking at her with… sympathy. And it was making her uncomfortable.

Danny placed his large hands on her shoulders and carefully pushed her away from his personal bubble, so that she was standing at arms' length. He studied her with eyes that suddenly appeared older and wiser. And then he spoke.

"You know, when Sam and I first started going out, I was over the moon. I was just a kid, barely seventeen, and I was completely infatuated. I was so sure that I wanted to be with her every second of every minute of every day for the rest of my life." He paused for a bit, but somehow Paulina knew that it wasn't because he expected her to answer. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. So she waited.

"A lot has happened since then." I grew up, so did she— and our relationship matured, too. We're not kids anymore, and I know now that I don't really need to hang around her every second of my life. For one thing, we've been together for more than _twenty years_ , and sometimes we just drive each other completely up the wall. Sometimes we butt heads, and sometimes we fight— just like any real couple. So we do need a bit of a break from each other every once in a while. Also, she and I are two separate people, not a single entity. We need our space. Sam's the one who taught me that." He smiled at the mere thought of this, and Paulina's stomach churned unpleasantly at the sight. "And it actually is a little nice when I go off to do my own thing, and she does hers… it makes meeting up again afterwards all the more special, because we get to share whatever happened in that time with one another. There's always something new to bring in to the relationship; always something to learn from each other." He paused again, and this time he wore a devious smile. "And don't even get me started on the I-missed-you sex."

The mischievous grin on his face faded into something softer, but his eyes remained fixed on some faraway point over Paulina's shoulder. "Besides," he continued, "Sam wouldn't be _Sam_ if she wasn't as independent and individualistic as she is. It's one of the things I love most about her. So yeah. I can, in a way, see what you're saying, and there's… maybe an _ounce_ of truth there. I _don't_ exactly want to be around her _all_ the time.

"But you're also incredibly _wrong._ Because I could never, _ever,_ get sick of her. You'd think I would by now, I guess, 'cause she's just been there all this time. I mean, she was my friend from the very first day I met her— and that was when we were little kids. Soon, we were _best_ friends, and our friendship only got stronger over the years. And then the whole thing with my ghost powers happened, and she became part of my ghost fighting team. A couple of years after that, she became my girlfriend, a few years after that, she became my wife, and soon we started working together, running Fentonworks and all. Tucker doesn't really fight ghosts with us anymore either, so she's my partner in that, too. A few years after _that,_ we started a family together and she became the mother of my kids, on top of everything else.

"But you see— with each new role she takes, she becomes a bigger part of my life, and a bigger part of _me._ We've really come a long way. _Together._ " He shook his head, a fond, wistful smile on his face. "She's my whole world. I'm never going to turn my back on her. I'm never going to intentionally hurt her. And I'm never going to risk what I have with her. Not even for a second."

A moment of profound silence passed between the two adults, in which Danny leaned against the shelves behind him, that same fond, wistful smile still plastered on his face. His eyes were glazed as he looked at some point in the empty space behind her, clearly lost in happy memories of his wife. It was in that same moment of silence that Paulina opted to stand back and watch him as she absorbed all that he'd said.

It was also in that same moment that the closet door burst open almost violently, revealing a very, _very_ unhappy Samantha Fenton.

* * *

"Sam!" Danny looked just about to pass out on the spot. "Sam, honey, I swear— it's not what it looks like! Paulina, she- she-"

Sam held out a hand to stop his tirade. "Save it, Danny. I get it. Now could we please have a word in private?"

Paulina was practically oozing with smug satisfaction at having single-handedly caused a marital tiff between the highly-revered couple of Casper High, Class of '07. Was that all it took? Please. Nothing a killer body and a sultry voice couldn't fix. "Oops, guess I'll let you two have that private chat."

Sam's head whipped around to appraise her. She chuckled darkly, amusedly. "Oh no, princess. You and _I_ are going to have a chat." That was when Paulina realized Sam had addressed _her_.

"What?"

"You heard me."

* * *

"I don't know why you're cornering _me._ " Paulina attempted to appear haughty once she and the Sam were alone in the closet. "Shouldn't you be rounding on your man right now?"

"Husband."

"What?"

Sam folded her arms across her chest, and even as Paulina eyed her impeccable black knee-length dress, she braced herself. Sam was _not_ known to have an even temper. "He's not just my _man_ , he's my _husband_. I'm informing you because you don't seem to have noticed. He's my husband. We're _married._ And I don't know what that means in your book, but for most people, that means it's _permanent_. So you better keep your freshly manicured claws to yourself." She snapped.

While Paulina did have her apprehensions, there was simply no way her pride was going to allow her to sit back and just _take_ whatever the freaky goth geek from high school dished out at her. So she folded her own arms across her chest and scoffed. "Or what?"

" _Or_ _what?_ Or I'll kick your ass, that's what." She informed her. Paulina could feel derisive laughter bubbling in her throat, and it must have shown in her expression, because Sam quickly added: "Laugh all you want. You know I can do it." The smile she gave her was sickeningly sweet. "Or do you not watch the news?"

* * *

Sam immediately exited the premises after their little "chat" and Paulina watched, fuming once more, as she took a turn at a corner by the teacher's lounge that led to a more secluded hallway. She waited a few moments before following after her, knowing Sam would lead her to where Danny was, and Paulina wanted nothing more in that moment than to watch them scream at each other.

When she found the pair, they were standing facing each other, but it seemed that neither of them had spoken yet, which meant Paulina had probably arrived in time for their lovers' spat. She knew they were used to keeping their senses alert for danger lurking around the corner— at least, in battle. She hid at what she hoped was a safe distance away from them, behind a row of lockers, and knew that in order for her to remain unseen she would have to rely on their tendency to distract each other from the rest of the world. At that moment, the odds seemed to be in her favor. Sam was massaging her temples in frustration and Danny was watching her stew, looking worried and more than a little panicked. After a few more moments of tense silence, he finally broke.

"Sam," Danny pleaded softly, brushing her shoulder with his fingers in the lightest of touches— almost as if he didn't dare hold her any tighter while she was upset. Paulina wasn't quite sure what to make of that. "I know you're mad, but please—"

"Hold it right there, Danny." she interrupted him. "I _am_ mad. But not at you."

He blinked at her a couple of times. "Not… not at me?"

"No!" Sam exploded, pushing away from him to make room for her arms to flail about as she elaborated. "I'm mad at _her_! Look, I can already guess what happened, alright? Paulina ran over to you with some sort of lame excuse, probably asking for help about a ghost or whatever, and she got you in there because you, my darling Clueless One, believed her. And then she probably cornered you and planted one on you from what you _thought_ was out of nowhere, and you were so shocked that you _freaked out_ and just stood there like an idiot." She folded her arms with confidence and raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to deny it. Paulina didn't know whether to be impressed that Sam was this perceptive, or concerned that she had become too predictable.

Danny grinned at her sheepishly for a second, silently confirming his wife's deductions. But then he laughed and shook his head. "Give me some credit. I also phased away from her kiss and defended our relationship. With a speech."

He puffed out his chest jokingly and Sam's lips twitched as though she were fighting a smile, but she did manage to raise an eyebrow at him. "A _speech_?"

" _That's_ the part you want to discuss?"

"Speeches and eloquence are kind of new for you." She grinned at him sardonically as he playfully rolled his eyes. "But like I said, I knew she'd probably try to kiss you, so… no surprise there." (Danny snorted and Paulina frowned at that.) "I'm also not surprised that you phased away," Sam added with a small smile.

Danny returned the smile with a gentle one of his own and bent down to kiss her softly on the lips. "So you're not mad?"

"No. Why?" She narrowed her eyes at him. " _Should_ I be?"

"What? No! I thought-"

Sam dropped the act and chuckled good-naturedly. "Relax, Danny, I know, and I know you. I trust you."

He said nothing, but smiled and gazed down at her with such tenderness in his eyes that it made Paulina's chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache. "Thanks."

As one, they moved, reaching for the other's hand and meeting halfway to intertwine their fingers. No words were necessary as they exchanged a look. A message of understanding and— God help her— _love_ seemed to pass between them, understated but startlingly clear even to an observer. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before they both headed back into the gym.

That was when Paulina finally, truly accepted that what Danny and Sam had was special… and not just because they had managed to stay fit and attractive in their mid-thirties from all the ghost fighting. It was the bond they shared, something stable but passionate; friendship and romance, timeless and true. Everyone who encountered them recognized it and marveled at it— and it was, perhaps, the real reason that she had always been secretly jealous of Samantha Manson in the first place. She supposed she always would be, even a little bit, from yearning for someone to share with what those two had with each other. But after that reunion, she kept a respectful distance, and never bothered the Fentons again.

* * *

A/N- And that wraps up our first chapter. I'm not quite sure if the pace is too boring for readers that aren't... well, me. So feedback will be much appreciated. If no one's interested in this, I may not see the point in uploading the next chapters here. Also, who do you guys think the next character/s will be? I've already got a line-up, but I'm open to suggestions and I'm interested in what you have to say!

Until next time!


	2. The Educator

**Lovebird Watching**

by Frankie'N

Summary:With dangerous entities like ghosts constantly occupying the skies, the residents of Amity Park don't exactly have time for something as mundane as birdwatching. _Lovebird_ watching, however, is a whole other story.

The Danny-Sam phenomenon told from the perspective of everyone around them. (And later told from their own perspectives)

A/N: After much tweaking, I present to you Chapter Two! Not sure if it was clear in the first chapter, but the overarching story does NOT follow the PP timeline. It follows all the way up to the episode before that, though. The rest of it is from my own wishful thinking.

Thank you for the reviews that are, as you know, food for aspiring writers. I've decided to reply publicly/on the chapters themselves because I'd like to share some of my answers with anyone who might be interested. :)

To LetteredViolet, SpacePortals, org 13 is best, Wrennie and Dday: Thank you so much, dears! Some of those compliments are too kind, and I'm not just saying that to be modest. Y'all are sweet.

To Kingpin: Thanks! I do have plans for some of those folks, but we'll have to see. ;)

To ImperfectisPerfect: Aww, thanks! And I definitely agree with you about Dash and Paulina!

To ShadowDragon357: Phew, that's a relief. I thought it might have been too uneventful. To be honest, one of the reasons I put Dash and Paulina's stories together is that I thought each would be too short or would not have enough substance to stand alone, but I just kept adding to it to make sure everything made sense and I didn't realize it ended up being that long, haha! I also feel like their parts kind of compliment each other, almost like two sides of the same aspect of Danny and Sam's story. So I wanted to put those together. Thanks and hope you stay tuned for more!

To A Vivid Reader: First of all, cool name. Second: cringe because of too much cheese, or...? lol and Third: _Ding Ding Ding_ Yes! Here you go, Mr. Lancer's chapter! I thought about writing his story before and decided that for the flow I want to go with, his should be next.

To Invader Johnny: Thanks! That's what I was trying to go far when I wrote that. :) Now that you mention it, the possibilities a _re_ kind of endless. I won't be including everyone, but I will say that the characters you mentioned have a pretty good chance of showing up eventually!

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Woe is me, etc.

additional note: I'm referring to him here as "Lancer" because a) we don't know his real first name for sure b) if I kept calling him by a first name that I made up it might not feel like you're reading about the Lancer we all know (and love?)

* * *

THE EDUCATOR: Mr. Lancer

It had taken Lancer a little over three years to discover the real reason behind Danny Fenton's supposed "rebellious streak."

And yes, he _had_ felt rather guilty, truth be told, when he first sat down to contemplate this once-inconceivable _reason_ and in doing so, forced himself to look back on the long string of after-school detentions and similar punishments that he himself had arranged for the boy. Danny had been dealt many a consequence for doing no less than risking his life everyday to save people who either didn't care about him, or didn't even _know_ him. And somehow, with a maturity that Lancer didn't know he possessed, he accepted those consequences— albeit begrudgingly at times— because he had prioritized doing what he believed was right. And thank _heavens_ the boy's moral compass usually pointed north, or Lancer didn't know where they'd all be today.

But gratefulness quickly morphed into guilt once again ( _doubled_ , now) as more memories washed over him— memories, this time, of all the instances in which he'd unfairly favored star athletes and other popular students over the unlikely town hero.

To be fair, at the time Lancer had still been under the misguided impression that the youngest Fenton was a mischievous, persistent rule-breaker with zero interest in school activities— be they academic or athletic. And, the teacher reasoned, perhaps it _is_ true what they say about first impressions: they really _do_ last. Young Danny Fenton had certainly started High School off on the wrong foot. He could still, as the old saying goes, remember that day like it was yesterday...

 _It was the first day of school and everything was going fine so far. The morning assembly went over surprisingly well— which, by High School standards, meant that it finished without any serious heckling, pranks, riots or ruckus of any kind. The first few periods of class had gone by without much disturbance, and now it was the middle of lunch break. Lancer was hoping for a miraculously peaceful, trouble-free first day of school. Ambitious, perhaps, but one could dream. He wanted to start the year right, and so far things were going his way— certainly a good omen for possible smooth sailing within the months to come._

 _Having finished his lunch early, Lancer decided to take a quick scan around the building, just to make sure things were in order. 11:35 in the morning and so far, so good— a new record, truly. Indeed, this year was beginning to show plenty of promise-_

 _Lancer stopped abruptly in his tracks as his ears picked up the telltale sounds of an over-energetic teen crowd egging on a fight. The noise seemed to be coming from the school cafeteria. Whether it was a food fight, a brawl between groups of boys, or a simple tussle between two students, he couldn't be too sure from the sound alone. Sighing heavily as his good mood evaporated into thin air, Lancer dragged his feet over to the cafeteria doors and pushed them open._

 _True enough, a massive crowd of students seemed to be gathered around something. The room was filled with intermingled shouts of encouragement and indignation, which only served to fuel Lancer's annoyance. He elbowed his way past the crowd to get to the center of the commotion, scowling all the while. 'And the day had started out so well, too,' he thought to himself._

 _Upon finally reaching his destination, his eyes landed on an unusual sight: a scrawny, shaggy-haired boy with a look of fierce determination in his otherwise innocent eyes, face-to-face with a much larger boy sporting what appeared to be cafeteria food all over his hair and face, as well as a colorful pair of boxers— visible due to the fact that his pants were bunched in a heap at his ankles._

 _Before Lancer could process this fully, the first boy charged forward and clumsily tackled the second one to the ground._

 _"Lord of the Flies!" Lancer bellowed. "This is not the way to start off the school year, people!" He stalked over to the two students and reached for the smaller one, yanking him by the neck of his shirt. "You are coming with me, young man."_

 _Lancer proceeded to drag him past the massive crowd of students._ _"What's your name, son?" He addressed the little ruffian as he continued to pull him along the hallways by the elbow._

 _"Umm…" the boy cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's Danny, sir," he mumbled, "Danny Fenton."_

 _Fenton? **This** was Jasmine Fenton's younger brother? Lancer forced himself to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment that accompanied this new discovery. Jasmine was, by every definition of the word, a star pupil. One of Casper High's finest. When Lancer had gotten word that her brother would be entering High School, he'd hoped for the best. Now, it seemed that he had been asking the fates for far too much. Lancer was, of course, aware of who exactly the boy's parents were. Everyone knew about them. It only made sense that their son, at least, would act out in response to their strange profession. As it was, the couple was lucky enough to have gotten away with raising one normal (and actually quite exemplary) child. _

_"Well, Mr. Fenton," Lancer began as he dragged the boy into his office, "It looks like we're off to a bad start. First day of High School, first detention of your High School career. Let's make sure it's the last one, yes?"_

 _"Yes, Mr. Lancer." Danny's shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked so pitiful that Lancer nearly withdrew his punishment. Alas, rules were rules._

Besides, that had most certainly _not_ been the last time Danny Fenton served detention under Lancer's jurisdiction at Casper High. The boy slipped up so many times after that day that Lancer grew absolutely _sure_ he'd been some sort of teenage delinquent rebelling due to his parents'… eccentricities. The assumption that his friends were delinquents cam naturally to him, as well. Tucker Foley more or less went wherever Danny Fenton went, and Samantha Manson embodied a _multitude_ of traits that any teacher would automatically associate with troubled teenage rebellion.

He was completely floored on the day he and the rest of the world discovered the truth behind Danny's own _eccentricities_. But could you blame him? Never in a million years would he— or anyone else for that matter— have guessed that the _reason_ behind the youngest Fenton's peculiar and problematic behavior was that he was the town's highly debated half-ghost hero. It certainly explained a lot of the shenanigans that often involved him. Lancer shook his head in sympathy as he recalled the boy's persistent pants-dropping dilemma back in his freshman year.

Yes, he had a lot to mull over as both a teacher and a vice principal. He was, in fact, reflecting on these matters in his office the very morning right after the Big Reveal, when he was suddenly interrupted by his first visit of the day.

At eight o' clock sharp, there was a panicked banging on his office door. Lancer barely had time to surface from his own thoughts before it swung open almost violently.

"Ah, Ms. Manson. I can't say I'm surprised."

* * *

 _Five Years Later (Present Day)_

Let it not be said that Lancer wasn't a good brother.

In fact, this evening should hereby exempt him from any and all comments claiming that he _isn't_ the most outstanding brother to ever walk the planet.

After all, how many older, middle-aged (ahem) men would agree to cover for their irresponsible, reckless, younger-by-twenty-years sibling's _bartending_ shift of all things? The kid was pretty damn lucky Lancer still remembered how to throw most of the more popular cocktails together (a skill he'd somehow retained from his own youth.) _And_ he was pretty damn lucky that Lancer actually obliged him. He was supposed to be an _educator_ , a man of stature. What would he do if someone who knew him spotted him here? He sighed to himself as he wiped a newly-washed shot glass dry with a towel. Ah, well. At least he'd be in a position to catch students trying to get away with underage drinking.

He settled the glass down and was about to reach for another when something caught his eye.

Walking over to the bar was a tall, lean man with jet-black hair and bright, blue eyes— partially obscured by a large, black hooded jacket.

 _Well, I'll be._ "Of all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine." Lancer couldn't help but announce dryly as Danny Fenton waltzed over to the bar.

The younger man stared at him with confused, disbelieving eyes— though they did sparkle with unrestrained mirth. "Casablanca," was all he said by way of greeting, acknowledging the quote as he took a seat on the bar stool located directly across him. Suddenly, Lancer felt as though they'd transported back to Danny's high school days; like he was tentatively addressing a particularly tricky question. Even now, his voice was tinged with mild surprise at knowing he'd provided the correct answer.

Lancer couldn't help but nod accordingly, oddly pleased with his former pupil. "I'll admit I never took you for a classics aficionado, Mr. Fenton."

Danny chuckled. "I'm not. I only know about that movie because of…" he trailed off at that, his trademark smile dropping almost instantly.

Ah. So he _was_ here, of all nights, for a reason after all. Lancer decided not to press him to continue. Instead, he grabbed a scotch glass and poured the twenty-two year old a drink. "Saw the news. Big day tomorrow, hmm?"

Like a turtle retreating into its shell, Danny seemed to withdraw further into himself. He nodded numbly.

"Cold feet?"

As if on cue, the younger man suddenly flashed him a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "You don't know the half of it!" he joked, raising a leg to display his foot, which he then allowed to crystalize underneath a thick layer of ghostly ice.

Lancer frowned, unimpressed. He said nothing, but Danny seemed to have gotten the message, for he sighed and dropped the foot— as well as the act.

He was silent for a moment, and then, eyes glued to the table, he asked in a quiet voice: "You remember Sam?"

Lancer smiled a little at that. "Of course. It would be hard to forget a young lady that caused as much of a commotion as she so often did." He shook his head as he recalled the girl's numerous activist movements: stealing frogs from the Biology lab, changing the school cafeteria menu, arranging anti-animal cruelty protests— and later on, anti-ghost cruelty protests— right in front of the school… the list just went on and _on._ "She sure knew how to make a scene. Even if it _was_ something as simple as sharing her liberal and rather… _spirited_ opinions in class about my book assignments. But there's no denying she was a very bright girl— with a keen eye for literature, might I add." Lancer glanced at Danny after his little speech, and just as he'd hoped, the boy was now smiling fondly.

"That's Sam, alright," he breathed. Absently, he swirled the ice in his glass around for a bit until his smile faltered yet again. "She's always been too good for me."

Lancer regarded the young man before him thoughtfully before speaking. "Have I ever told you about the time I explained the details of your adjusted school regulations to Ms. Manson?"

Danny looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, and shook his head.

Lancer smiled.

* * *

 _Five Years Ago_

 _"Ah, Ms. Manson. I can't say I'm surprised."_

 _"Mr. Lancer, please. We both know why I'm here." Samantha barely paused to take a breath before all her worries came tumbling out of her lips, non-stop. "I don't know if you're one of the people that knows Danny Phantom is a hero, but if you are then you've got to see how much Danny has to go through to keep everybody safe. Please, I don't know how the other teachers and students are gonna react but there's gotta be a way to give him some kind of protection and immunity from all the anti-ecto-people. Oh God, you're not one of them, are you? Please don't kick him out of school, Mr. Lancer! Danny's a hero, really, sometimes he just gets mind-controlled— I know that sounds crazy but it's the truth—"_

 _"That's quite enough, Ms. Manson." Lancer interrupted her briskly, though not unkindly. "Rest assured, I have been deliberating over yesterday's events carefully. Luckily enough, I am a Phantom supporter. That boy has done more good for this town than our past ten mayors combined. Now, I can't guarantee protection from the judgement of students and other teachers who feel differently, but I will do everything in my power to ensure that he receives fair and equal treatment."_

 _Samantha visibly deflated at that, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Thanks, Mr. Lancer." Although a great deal of worry appeared to be hanging about her still (it was evident in her posture), she nodded and turned to leave, but he stopped her._

 _"Wait just a minute there, Samantha-"_

 _"It's Sam."_

 _"- I have not yet relayed to you the details of what exactly I deemed fair. Please have a seat." He gestured to the chair positioned across his own, facing his desk— usually reserved for teachers who had a concern to raise (the concern raised often being that they wanted a raise), or students who had caused just enough trouble to warrant a punishment of his choosing. It was because of the latter, he assumed, that Samantha obliged him with careful, apprehensive movements._

 _She needn't have worried._

 _"I see now that these… ghost complications have been the cause of Daniel's… less than impressive grades, as well as his even less impressive tendency to sleep in class— not to mention his rather astounding record of tardies and absences. Which isn't to say that you and Mr. Foley haven't accumulated your fair share, as well."_

 _The girl squirmed in her seat. She said nothing, only nodded._

 _"Well. Given the circumstances, I have decided to grant the three of you a little bit of… leeway in that department."_

 _Her expressive eyes widened in shock, and he couldn't help but smile at her sagely. "I will no longer be monitoring and punishing your tardies and absences so closely. Time after regular school hours will be served whenever you miss a class, but it will no longer be used to detain you. I am willing to dedicate this time to tutor the three of you on anything you've missed during the lecture— or give you that time to work on your assignments and possible extra credit work, whichever you prefer. In addition to this, I will be extending deadlines for your class projects— provided you are able to prove that the reason for your delay is a ghost. Now, I am bestowing a great deal of trust on the three of you to be truthful, as recent events have convinced me that you are capable of acting responsibly. I expect you to live up to this. Do not prove me wrong. Understood?"_

 _Samantha stared at him with her mouth agape, seemingly at a loss for words— a rarity, indeed, for the normally outspoken girl. After a few seconds, however, she composed herself, swallowing and nodding much more enthusiastically than before. "Yes. Understood. Wow." Finally, she broke into a grin. "Wait till I tell Danny. I- I mean… God, this is going to mean so much to him. Thank you, Mr. Lancer. Really."_

* * *

 _Present Day_

Danny smiled. "She told me about the new rules, but I didn't know she came bursting into your office like that." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not surprised, though."

"Neither was I," Lancer interjected smoothly. When Danny shot him a curious look, he elaborated. "She was always looking out for you."

Even as Danny allowed the tiniest of smiles to escape, his shoulders sagged. "I know," he whispered.

Lancer studied the dejected half-ghost for a moment before deciding to change tactics. "Well, it certainly is understandable that you're getting… _cold feet_. The two of you are rather young, after all. I could see why you might be thinking of putting all of this on hold. At your age you should be seeing different people, exploring, discovering who and what you like-"

"No! That's… of course that's not…. that's not it at all! I've never-" Danny paused abruptly, his head shooting up to glance at him. "Oh, I see what you're doing. I almost fell for it too! But it's not going to work. It might have worked in High School but it sure as hell isn't gonna work now. I know what you're doing!"

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Lancer folded his arms across his chest.

"Getting me to open up! Tell you about… about what's going on between me and Sam!"

"Isn't that what bartenders do?"

"That's another thing! What the hell are you doing, _tending bars_ anyway?"

Lancer heaved an (arguably overdramatic) sigh. "I'm filling in for my younger brother. You may have heard of him. Er, _Pyrotonix_?" Lancer still cringed every time he had to say that ridiculous name out loud.

Danny's eyebrows shot up, as Lancer predicted they would. " _Pyrotonix?_ " he echoed incredulously. "The DJ?"

He made a show of nodding grimly. "DJ on some nights, bartender on others, I'm afraid. Even as a bartender, he's gained some popularity."

"Right…" Danny eyed the teacher warily. "I think I read about him bartending in some magazine. But isn't his real name, umm…"

"Peter Thomas," Lancer supplied, and Danny nodded in recognition, although he still look confused at the obvious lack of _Lancer_ in his name. "Yes. Thomas is my stepfather's surname. Peter and I share a mother, but she had me with her first husband, a _long_ time ago." He laughed humorlessly at that. "My biological father was cruel to her, and we were both glad to be rid of him. She remarried more than twenty years later, and my brother was born. She adores my stepfather and their son— and so do I, but at times it does feel like with as much as she favors my stepfather over my biological one— a preference I _certainly_ do not blame her for— she does, in effect, tend to favor my brother over me, as well. And even when he does _impulsive, careless_ things like ask his _much_ older brother to take over his shift so he can chase some girl he's convinced is the one— the third ' _the one'_ of the month, mind you— I can never refuse him. Not when I know it will break my mother's heart."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck in an obvious nervous gesture. "Man, I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Lancer. I don't know how-" Suddenly, he dropped his hand and glared. "Oh, very _nice_! Alright, alright! You shared a bit and now I'm going to feel obligated to 'open up' too." He rubbed his hand across his face. "Well played, sir," he grumbled.

Lancer grinned. He still couldn't believe there was a time when he thought the boy was a bit dim. He was definitely smarter than he looked, and it was most apparent whenever he applied himself in battle. The few years after High School have only served to sharpen his mind, it seemed. "Well, Daniel- Danny, you can start with telling me what you're doing all alone at a bar the night before your wedding. Having second thoughts about your bride?"

Predictably, Danny shook his head, keeping his eyes glued to his now-empty glass of whiskey. "No, it's not like that at all. I know I'm young, but I've pretty much known I've wanted to marry Sam for… for _years_. Since I was a boy, really." He shook his head again, but this time it was in wistful fondness, if the smile on his face was any indication. "The adults would tease us even when we were kids. They'd talk about how cute we looked together and they'd ask me if I wanted to marry her when I grow up. For the longest time, I kind of reacted the same way: 'Eugh, no way! That's gross. We're friends.' And when I was a teenager my answer was… well, pretty much the same, only less childish— and definitely _way_ more panicked." He laughed at the memory, and Lancer couldn't help but chuckle along with him. "I guess… deep down, I always kind of knew I'd one day ask her to marry me. And that's why I would freak out so much every time someone asked me that question… every time I even _thought_ about liking her. I mean, what kind of kid is ready to think about that kinda stuff? Crushing on other girls was good and normal and safe. Crushing on _Sam_ scared the hell out of me when I was younger."

Lancer hummed in contemplation, and although he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, he asked it anyway, knowing it would help clear Danny's head. "Perhaps that's it, then? You're aware of how big a deal this is, and so you are feeling reluctant? As I mentioned, Daniel, you are both quite young still. There's no reason to rush into things-"

"No, no, no." He was back to shaking his head. "I was scared of all that when I was a _kid._ For a couple of years now, every time someone joked about 'popping the question' I'd happily tell them 'in time.' I've been waiting for an acceptable age to ask her to marry me for a while now. Maybe that sounds crazy. I know we're just _kids_ to you, Mr. Lancer but… see, we _do_ have a reason to rush into things.

Sam and I live dangerous lives. And we just don't want to have any… regrets." His voice grew small as he uttered the last word, and he closed his eyes. "But that's…. that's also why I'm having doubts. There's no denying that just being with me— being so closely associated with me— is taking a huge risk. I have a lot of enemies, and they all know my greatest weakness. I just… I don't want to put her through that, _forever_." He sighed with all the weight of a man carrying the entire world on his shoulders. "I just want her to be safe."

Lancer allowed his words to sink in as he silently refilled Danny's drink. The younger man muttered a polite "thank you" before automatically taking a sip from it. "I may not know much about Samantha," Lancer pointed out, "but I _do_ know that she wouldn't be too pleased to hear you saying anything remotely _close_ to an implication that she can't take care of herself."

Danny sighed again. "She wasn't. We had a big fight about it earlier and… well, that's how I ended up here."

The teacher nodded thoughtfully at this unsurprising news. The pieces were beginning to fit together. Instead of addressing this directly, he said: "She certainly is a tough girl."

Danny smiled in spite of himself. "The toughest."

"Then perhaps she is the best match for you," he probed further. "Few women would be able to keep up with your… _lifestyle_ the way she does."

Danny's smile faded and he pursed his lips together in a grim line. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. "You don't understand," he said, and for the first time Lancer could hear the absolute _anguish_ in his voice. "I _know_ there's no one better for me than her. And I don't want anyone else. It's Sam or no one at all. Don't you see? It's not about her. It's _me. I_ can't be with anyone because I'm a walking hazard. Ever since we got engaged, ghost kings and hoodlums have been kidnapping her left and right, trying to get her to be _their_ human bride before the _halfa_ can beat them to it."

Lancer watched as the boy— for although he was a man now in many ways, he looked entirely too small and vulnerable in that moment— Lancer watched as he covered his face with his hands in complete and utter _agony_ and, not for the first time, his heart went out to him. No boy should ever have to make the decisions Danny had to make; or risk their own neck so frequently it becomes a way of life. And yet here he was, stepping up to the plate, taking the high road, and embodying _with great power comes great responsibility_ better than men far older and wiser than he; better than any other man Lancer had ever met.

"Danny… I believe I wasn't quite finished with my little trip down memory lane."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at him— a gesture that, now that Lancer thought about it, he'd likely picked up from his fiancé.

"After we discussed your new school provisions, I asked her something that had been… _plaguing_ me ever since I— and the rest of the world— discovered your secret."

* * *

 _Five Years Ago, Back in Lancer's Office_

"Ms. Manson, if you don't mind me asking… there's something I have been wondering about. Would you happen to remember a certain _incident_ that occurred on your first day of High School?"

Samantha seemed to realize what he was referring to, for she reacted immediately, if not strangely— Lancer didn't expect her to flush with what appeared to be _shame._

"I caught Danny that day _attacking_ Dash Baxter," he clarified anyway. "But now that I have had a chance to stop and think about it— especially in light of recent events— it seems rather… out of character for him."

"Yes," she answered in a small voice. "Yes, I remember."

"Good. Now I know I am perhaps three years too late to be asking this, and I hope you'll forgive me for the delay, but perhaps you could provide some context?"

Sam threaded her fingers together and positioned them on her lap. Although she seemed to retreat back into reluctance, she proceeded to paint the picture for him.

 _Danny, Tucker and Sam were looking for a table in the cafeteria, lunch trays in hand. It was their very first day of High School, back when Danny hadn't gotten his powers yet and all they had to worry about were class assignments, video game scores, and generally fitting in with the rest of their peers. Well, except for Sam— she never cared much about what the other kids thought of her. It was a good thing, too, because she had been subject to a lot of teasing ever since she was a little girl— having boys as your only friends will do that for you. A girl hanging out with two boys all the time was just plain weird and kind of lame. Not to mention the fact that this prompted a lot of the kids to jokingly call her Danny's girlfriend. At this point in time, the only thing that left Tucker out of that type of teasing was the fact that he'd been hitting on every girl in their year since middle school. Come to think of it, this was the day the kids started calling Sam and Danny lovebirds for an entirely different reason._

 _Tucker and Sam were in the middle of one of their more tame meat-versus-veggies debates when none other than Dash Baxter decided to disturb their peace._

 _"Well, well. Look who didn't hit their growth spurt last summer! Ready for four more years of me kicking your butts?"_

 _Sam scowled at him. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size, Baxter?"_

 _Dash tilted his head to address her, honing in on his new target. "Manson. Still a freak, huh? Can't believe your parents let you out of the house looking like that. They're either complete freaks like you, or embarrassed as heck to have you for a kid."_

 _Sam froze in her tracks, completely stunned that Dash had gone straight for the jugular. It was almost as if he knew that the topic was a sensitive one for her._

 _Danny, of course, did know for a fact that this was a touchy subject, and immediately stepped forward to defend his friend. "That's enough, Dash. Leave her alone."_

 _But the bully only smirked down at Danny, clearly amused. "Wow, Manson. You've trained this one well. Probably scared these two wimps into hanging out with you, huh? No way these geeks would stick around with someone as freaky as you unless you scared them into it!" He laughed at his own presumed cleverness. "Not even the school's biggest losers would wanna be buddies with you for real. Guess nobody likes you, Manson. Not even your two only **friends**."_

 _The succeeding events unfolded way too quickly after that. Faster than Sam could blink, Danny smashed his entire lunch tray right into Dash's face, shoving clumps of gravy, mashed potatoes, and mystery meat into his eyes and up his nose. He used Dash's temporary shock (and blindness) to his advantage, swiftly reaching for the waistband of the jock's jeans and yanking them down, exposing his colorful teddy bear boxers to everyone who was watching— everyone being almost the entire student body. And before Sam could so much as yell 'Danny, don't!' he lunged headfirst for the larger boy, skull colliding painfully with stomach. Danny wound his arms around Dash's midsection and used his entire weight to tackle him to the ground, the pants at his ankles hindering Dash from doing anything other than toppling over._

 _It was at that exact moment that Lancer happened to walk in._

* * *

 _Present Day_

It was Danny's turn to flush scarlet, and it made him— all six feet of him— look suddenly boyish in an entirely different way, much to Lancer's amusement. "Oh, right. I almost forgot about that. I guess I kinda lost it back then."

Lancer only smiled. "The fact that you forgot about it proves how natural it is for you to protect her."

"Maybe… but I don't see how this has anything to do with my problem now. I've always been protective of Sam."

Once again, Lancer studied the dark-haired boy sitting forlornly across from him, and was, _once again,_ overcome with a strange mix of sympathy and awe. He pitied him; at such a young age he was forced to think of sacrificing his own happiness for the safety of one girl. But he was also amazed at him. So young, indeed, and yet so strangely capable of love in ways he'd never witnessed in any other man. It was clear that Danny had cared deeply for her even at a very young age. Lancer wondered what that was like— to find your _true love_ as a mere child. Looking at Danny now, he supposed it was both a blessing and a curse.

"Exactly. She's always looked out for you, just as you've always looked out for her. You'll both be fine."

Danny was silent for a while as he tapped his fingers against the countertop. "It was worth it."

"Pardon?"

"It was worth it. I embarrassed Dash pretty bad that day, and I know that's why he liked to pick on me the most. For _years._ And I also know that's probably why you thought I was some kind of delinquent kid, Mr. Lancer." His eyes shot up and Lancer swore the kid was fighting back a smile. "And I know Sam probably feels guilty about the whole thing. But it was worth it because he never rounded on her like that again. And besides…" Danny's voice was suddenly dripping with venom, using a tone Lancer had never heard from him before. "Sam didn't tell you this, but she was actually about to _cry._ That _asshole_ … Sam _never_ cries."

Danny scowled into his once-again-empty glass, no doubt recalling the incident and the thoughtless words Dash Baxter had thrown at the girl that day.

"Perhaps," Lancer began, purposefully cutting Danny's brooding short, "it had nothing to do with what Dash or any of his friends thought. I believe it was the thought of not having _you_ that upset her so."

Danny said nothing, but his eyes softened, and his lips were no longer pulled downwards into an angry frown. He seemed to be digesting Lancer's words; slowly, but surely.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Lancer continued. " _I_ think… being with you simply makes her happy. Don't you want her to be happy?"

Danny, for all the cluelessness he may have retained regarding the young woman in question and how deeply her feelings for him ran, seemed to understand that this was a rhetorical question. He remained silent as he stared at the countertop, clearly deep in thought.

That is, until the sound of a voice, slightly familiar to Lancer, but certainly, completely and _absolutely_ familiar to Danny, broke their little bubble of silence.

"Danny?"

"Sam!" Danny leapt off his bar stool at once, forgetting all pretense of disguise at the sight of her as he allowed the hood of his jacket to slip over his head and reveal his face.

Samantha was standing before him, clad in casual, civilian clothes but holding an enormous rifle that looked like it could take down twenty ghosts in one blast. The large weapon clattered to the ground noisily as she released it in favor of rushing to her fiancé.

In almost perfect synchronization, he held out his arms just as she dove forward to collapse into him. "Danny! Where the hell have you been? I didn't know if it was ghost trouble, or-" she stopped and stiffly stepped away from his embrace.

"Or if you were just nervous." She bit her lip, cutting herself off once more, and then— to Lancer's utter astonishment—choked on a sob and hastily brushed the tears out of her own eyes. "You know I can take care of myself. And when I can't, _you_ can! You always have!" The young couple was rapidly drawing attention to themselves. Onlookers peered curiously at the hero and his partner's uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. The sounds of typical, blaring bar chatter diffused to a mix of speculative murmurs and exclamations of _"Oh my God! It's Danny and Sam!"_

But the lovebirds in question didn't even seem to notice. Samantha appeared to curl up into herself, but when she spoke, Lancer suspected it had little to do with the crowd around them. "But… if you left because you just don't want this, then…" She spoke in a quiet, vulnerable voice. "If you just don't want to be with me, Danny, I…" She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and Lancer could see that her eyes were glistening with tears.

Danny himself look horror-struck at her words. He clutched her arms tightly. His gaze on her was intense, but his eyes briefly flickered to Lancer's, and the older man knew that he was recalling the last part of their conversation.

 _Sam never cries._

 _Perhaps it had nothing to do with what Dash or any of his friends thought. I believe it was the thought of not having you that upset her so._

 _Being with you makes her happy. Don't you want her to be happy?_

"Sam…" he began. "You _know_ that's not true. How could you even think that? This isn't like you at all-"

"Sam! Danny! Over here!" Lancer wasn't sure how those paparazzi managed to rush to the scene so quickly, but there they were.

Cameras flashed obnoxiously as the crowd grew more tumultuous. Reporters were yelling all around them, trying to catch the young couple's attention.

Visibly agitated and yet also determined, Danny surveyed the room, nodded once at Lancer before scooping Sam up in his arms and shooting into the air and through the ceiling, making a quick escape from the paparazzi and their adoring (if not nosy) fans. Lancer was, once again, left astonished, standing behind the bar counter almost as if he'd never moved.

He had always liked the young couple and thought they suited each other, but tonight he felt he understood them just a little bit more. They didn't need a mentor or father figure to push them together, or to teach them about love. They had each other, and they had each other's backs— whether it was late night insecurities, high school bullies, or ghosts out for their blood _,_ they would always, _always_ look out for each other. That was just how they worked, and Lancer admired them for it. It seemed that for all his years of teaching, there was still, _thankfully,_ much he could learn from his students.

* * *

The next day found Lancer all dressed up in a suit he had shelved at the back of his closet for last minute occasions, and seated at a lavish reception hall within Amity's most expensive hotel. One Tucker Foley had called him in the morning to invite him to the wedding— he was fulfilling some of his best man duties while the bride and groom were being primped and pampered by the fussy and overeager wedding crew hired by the Mansons.

Lancer watched contentedly as the newlyweds posed for pictures with each table at the reception. As much as he enjoyed the festivities and as happy as he was for the pair, after a few hours of harmless people-watching, he decided it was about time he headed home.

He had almost made it past the ornate doors of the reception hall when a gentle, feminine hand on his arm stopped him. Caught a little off guard, he turned around with no clue as to who would approach him like this, especially at this place, only to find that it was the blushing bride herself. The new Mrs. Fenton, who so often wore a sardonic expression, was openly beaming; she was positively _glowing_ in her flowing gown— an unusual yet captivating midnight-black masterpiece adorned with beads (or were those jewels?) that made her appear as though she were wrapped in the night sky itself. Behind her, the festivities carried on as guests continued to dance, drink and be merry. "Leaving so soon, Mr. Lancer?" Her distinct, knowing voice floated over to him.

He smiled at her. "I'm afraid I'm getting a little too old to stay up late for all these shenanigans, Samantha— Sam," he amended upon seeing the look on her face. He extended his hand for her to shake, and she took it without hesitation. "But congratulations to you both. I can think of no other couple that deserves this happiness more than you do."

She graced him with a small smile of gratitude. "Thanks… and… thank you, for last night. Danny told me about your little chat back at the bar. I'm afraid I'll be eternally indebted to you now, for convincing him."

He chuckled lightheartedly at that. "Fear not, my dear. I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. Besides," and here he grinned at her slyly, "do you really think anything could keep that boy away from you for very long?" Sam blushed, her smile turning shy.

"He would've come to his senses eventually. I only helped him to… speed up the process. The only thing you've got to thank me for is sparing you the monetary expense of postponing your wedding party." He gestured to the grand hall and all its extravagant decorations. "Looks like it would have been a hefty sum."

To his surprise, Sam's eyes began to glisten, ever-so-subtly, with a few grateful, unshed tears. She shook her head as if to clear it, and his shock at her unusual openness slowly ebbed away. The girl had undoubtedly been a tad more emotional than she normally was as of late, what with all the commotion that transpired mere hours before her wedding. Sam cleared her throat. "Well, then, thanks for that. You've saved me the trouble of dealing with my mother's hysterics, at any rate." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and spared him a watery smile. Lancer couldn't help but return it.

"Good luck to you both. And give Danny my regards as well, will you? If you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

The couple visited him shortly after their wedding, but not because they _needed_ anything, per se. Danny wanted to thank him in person, as well as share the happy news that some of the ghosts had stopped trying to kidnap Sam— well, stopped trying to kidnap her to make them their bride, at least. There appeared to be some odd ghost formality involved now that she was officially married to Danny. He met up often with them after that, so much so that they eventually decided to ask Lancer to be the godfather of their second child. All in all, he considered himself pretty damn lucky that his brother had called in a favor on that fateful evening before the the Fenton's wedding. But he was never going to tell _him_ that, of course.

* * *

A/N- Well, there you have it! I thought Lancer's chapter was going to be short but I just kept adding and adding to it to tie up loose ends. That's why it took a little while to update. Well, that and life :P So, I'm not sure if the timeline is confusing in this one! I would have preferred not to label the times, actually, but I didn't want to give anyone too much of a headache. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! I really like the idea of a young Danny doing what he can to stand up to Dash to defend his dear friend Sam even when he doesn't have powers yet, and even if he doesn't know how to put together big, brave, fancy speeches yet, and even when he's still pretty much a shy, stay-out-of-trouble kid.

I also kind of always wondered why Danny was Dash's "favorite" kid to pick on, and I thought this would be a fun/cute way to solve that mystery. Might also explain why Dash never really bullies Sam, too.

Let me know what you think about this chapter! It's pretty uh, Lancer-heavy so I don't know if it was a little boring. Either way, I'm interested in your thoughts and ideas! Also, can you guys guess who's next? ;)


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